The door to the bedchamber exploded inward, splintering the frame with a violent crack. Anurag stood there, chest heaving, his handsome face a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. His anguished eyes swept the room, taking in the scene: the scattered wedding silks, the low-burning lamp, and the two of them, intertwined on the rumpled bed.

“Durga! Are you alright?” he demanded, his voice a raw, desperate scrape.

Rajesh’s body went rigid atop her, a low, dangerous growl rumbling in his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t cover them, his intense gaze locking onto the intruder with a possessive fury that dwarfed Anurag’s. The sudden intrusion, the cold air, the shattered moment—it all crashed over Durga, freezing the blood in her veins.

“A-Anurag…” she stammered, her voice a thin, reedy thing.

“Get away from her!” Anurag shouted, taking a step into the room, his fists clenched.

Rajesh moved with a predator’s languid grace. He slowly, deliberately, pulled the silk sheet up to cover Durga’s hips, shielding her nakedness from the other man’s view. His own powerful body remained exposed, a blatant, unashamed testament to what had been happening. He shifted his weight, settling more deeply inside her, a proprietary claim that made Durga gasp. The sudden, full sensation after the shock was a jolt of lightning straight to her core.

“This is my wife’s bedchamber,” Rajesh stated, his voice dangerously calm, a stark contrast to the violent tension in the room. “And you are not welcome.”

“Your wife? You forced her into this!” Anurag’s voice broke. “Durga, look at me. Tell me you want this. Tell me he isn’t forcing you.”

Durga’s mind was a storm of confusion. Here was Anurag, her childhood friend, the man whose touch she had dreamt of, come to save her. And yet, beneath the sheets, Rajesh’s body was still joined with hers, a hard, undeniable reality. The heat of him, the way he filled her completely, the faint, delicious ache between her legs—it was all a confusing, traitorous thrill that warred with her panic.

“I… he’s not…” she began, but the words died in her throat. Was he forcing her? The marriage was forced, the situation was forced. But the slick heat coiling in her belly, the way her body had arched to meet his thrusts just moments ago… that had felt like a choice her body made without her mind’s permission.

Rajesh’s hand slid from her hip, his calloused fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path up her side, over the sheet that covered her. His thumb found the hard peak of her nipple through the fabric and brushed over it. A sharp, electric jolt of pleasure made her breath hitch. It was a silent message, a reminder of the intimacy they had just shared.

“She is my wife,” Rajesh repeated, his eyes never leaving Anurag’s. “And she is where she belongs. Leave. Now.”

“Not without her,” Anurag vowed, his anguish turning to cold resolve.

Rajesh smiled then, a cruel, knowing twist of his lips. He leaned down, his mouth brushing the shell of Durga’s ear, his voice a low, intimate whisper meant only for her, yet loud enough to carry across the room. “Show him, jaan. Show him how well your husband takes care of you.”

His hips moved. A single, slow, grinding thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her.

A choked moan escaped Durga’s lips. Her eyes, wide with shock and a burgeoning, shameful arousal, flew to Anurag’s. She saw the exact moment his hope shattered, replaced by a horrified understanding. Her body was responding, betraying her, clenching around Rajesh in a wave of involuntary, exquisite sensation. The friction was unbearable, a direct result of Anurag’s tortured presence fueling a forbidden fire within her.

“No…” Anurag whispered, the fight draining from him.

“Yes,” Rajesh murmured against her skin, his breath hot. He did it again, a deeper, more possessive roll of his hips that made the bed creak. His hand slipped under the sheet, his rough palm capturing her full, heavy breast, his thumb circling her nipple with agonizing slowness.

Durga’s head fell back against the pillow, a soft cry torn from her. She was trapped between two realities: the anguished eyes of the man she thought she loved, and the devastating, expert touch of the man who was now her husband. Her body, awakened and hungry, made its choice. Her hips lifted of their own volition, meeting his shallow, grinding thrusts.

“See?” Rajesh said, his voice thick with triumph and desire. “She doesn’t want you here. She wants her husband’s cock.”

Anurag made a sound of pure agony, stumbling back a step. The raw, carnal reality was too much. The sight of Durga’s face, flushed with a pleasure he had never given her, the scent of their sex in the air, the soft, wet sounds of their movement—it was a devastation he couldn’t withstand. With one last, broken look, he turned and fled, leaving the shattered door swinging on its hinges.

The moment he was gone, the spell broke. Rajesh’s controlled demeanor vanished, replaced by a feral, unleashed hunger. He ripped the sheet away, his intense gaze devouring her naked form.

“Mine,” he growled, the word a primal vibration against her skin.

His mouth crashed down on hers, not in a kiss of tenderness, but one of claiming. It was all teeth and possession, his tongue plunging deep. His hands were everywhere, mapping her curves, squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts, sliding down to grip the generous swell of her hips. He pulled out of her completely, the sudden emptiness a shock, before flipping her onto her stomach with a strength that stole her breath.

“On your knees,” Rajesh commanded, his voice rough.

Heart pounding, Durga obeyed, the cool air hitting her heated skin. She felt exposed, vulnerable, more wanton than she had ever imagined. His calloused hands spread her apart, and then he was there, the broad head of his cock pressing against her slick entrance. He didn’t ease in. He drove into her in one long, searing stroke that made her cry out into the pillow, her back arching.

This was different. Without an audience, without the pretense of gentle lovemaking, it was pure, raw fucking. His grip on her hips was iron, holding her in place as he set a brutal, punishing pace. Each thrust sent a shockwave through her, the slap of his flesh against hers echoing in the silent room.

“You are mine, Durga,” Rajesh grunted, his rhythm relentless. “Every scream, every moan, every drop of your pleasure. It all belongs to me.”

And it did. The coil of pleasure, so violently interrupted, snapped back into place with a vengeance. The angle was deeper, hitting a place inside her that made her see stars. Her mind emptied of everything—Anurag, the haveli, the forced marriage. There was only this: the relentless friction, the feel of his powerful body dominating hers, the building, terrifying pressure in her core.

Durga was close, so close. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, her cries becoming incoherent pleas.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his own control fraying. “Come for me, jaan. Let me feel you.”

He slid one hand around her hip, his rough fingers finding the swollen, sensitive bud at her core. The contact was electric. He circled it once, twice, in time with his deep, driving thrusts.

It was too much. The world shattered into a million brilliant pieces. A scream was torn from her throat as her climax ripped through her, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated sensation that clenched around him, milking him, pulling him deeper into her convulsing depths. With a guttural roar, Rajesh followed her over the edge, his final thrusts becoming erratic as he spilled himself inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He collapsed over her, his weight a heavy, comforting anchor, his hot breath panting against her sweaty back.

They lay there for a long moment, connected, breathless, the only sound their ragged breathing. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat and shattered boundaries. Slowly, he shifted his weight, pulling out of her gently before turning her onto her side to face him. His intense gaze searched her face, and for the first time, she saw something other than raw possession in his eyes. It looked like… awe.

He cupped durgacheek, his thumb stroking her jaw. “Look at me.”